


Brave Queen

by MisfitWriter



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 22:15:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5557532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisfitWriter/pseuds/MisfitWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merida finally returns from the Land Without Magic, and runs into trouble as she makes her way to Dunbroch.  Macintosh and her brothers have been out searching for her, determined to bring her home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

So I totally didn’t mean for this to happen…I originally was so distraught by 5.08 that I couldn’t understand the point of 5.09…so when I saw a post on Tumblr about this ship, I had to rewatch the episode. How in the world do we become such trash for a ship that only had about ten seconds of actually tolerating each other?? Alas…I am unashamed to be part of the merintrash clan, and this happened as a result. Let me know what you think? ((This is purely speculation because I refuse to believe they are just going to drop the whole Camelot/Brave arc after all of the buildup. So here ya go.)) 

* * *

 Merida smiled sadly at Belle as she prepared herself to return to her own world. She had no clue how long they’d been in this strange place, but she knew she was more than ready to return to Dunbroch. 

 When they reappeared in Camelot – sans that bloody bastard Arthur o’ course – Merida felt a bit disoriented. It would be quite the journey back home. Too bad that wicked witch wasn’t around anymore to make the journey a wee bit quicker. 

“Your majesty,” a gentle voice called from behind her. The Scot turned to face Queen Guinevere, clinging tightly to Lancelot’s arm. “Please, take a horse. You need to get back to your kingdom…it’s the least we can do after everything Arthur put you through.” Merida smiled gratefully to the beautiful royal, and found herself feeling sorry for what _she’d_ suffered at her husband’s hands as well. 

 And so, before long, she was astride a beautiful steed and galloping towards home. It would be at least two days’ ride, and she was worried of the state of the kingdom. She’d only _just_ proven herself worthy to the clans…who knew how long she’d been gone by now, and what the other leaders had done in her absence. 

 Merida had become so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice a shadow approaching her. It wasn’t until a solid mass collided with her did she recognize the danger. The redhead yelped in surprise, then cried out when her back and head made a painful connection with the ground. 

 “Don’t move,” a voice growled harshly above her. Merida obeyed, if only to give herself time to gain her bearings. “Well well, look what we have here. Quite lovely, wouldn’t you say, Jonathan?” 

 Finally sure of which way was up, Merida glared at the man currently straddling her. “Ye’ll be _quite_ sorry if ye don’t let me go. Have you any idea who I am?”

 “Ooh, a Scot at that!” the brute crowed. The queen fought to throw him off balance, but the man didn’t budge. “You’ll fetch a hefty price, m’dear.” Based on his accent, Merida gathered that they were British. _Fantastic_. His partner, _Jonathan_ , circled around to get a good look at her. His face lit up with glee.

 “Oh, that she will. Do you have any idea who this is, Jacob? This is the Queen of Dunbroch! A hefty price indeed!” 

 The man pinning her down drew a length of rope from his belt. Merida struggled against him again, but his weight was more than she could overcome. “Get yer filthy paws off of me, ye brute!” Jacob simply grinned, trapping both of her hands in one of his massive fingers, using the other to wrap the rope round her wrists. Once she was bound, he hauled her none too gently to her feet.

 “You can struggle all you’d like, Majesty,” Jonathan crooned, “but it won’t do you a bit of good out here. You’re a long way from home. No one out here to save you.” 

 “Is that so?” 

 Merida’s eyes drifted shut briefly as relief brought a smile to her face. Even as her captor wrapped his arm around her chest and pressed a blade to her throat, the Queen felt overwhelming peace wash over her as she met the furious gaze of her once-enemy-turned-advisor-of-sorts. Macintosh held his bow at the ready, and swept his eyes over her quickly. 

“And just who the hell are _you_?” 

 “I’m the man who’ll put ye down if’n ye don’t release my queen.” 

 Merida refused to react when the blade bit into her skin, but she could feel the blood trickle down her neck. Her clansman’s eyes tracked its movement, and she watched the muscle in his jaw twitch with his growing rage. 

 “You are outnumbered, and I don’t think you want me to cut her pretty neck open, do you?” She held Macintosh’s gaze for a long moment, willing him to understand her intention. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod, which was all the signal she needed. Merida threw her head back into her captor’s face. His yelp of surprise and pain would have been nearly as satisfying as the sound of another heavy body hitting the ground beside them…had her hit not sent stars before her eyes or a line of fire across her throat. 

 “Merida!” Macintosh shouted, loosing another arrow into the chest of the thug she’d just struck. The queen stumbled forward, hands flying to her neck as her world tilted on its axis. She felt his grip on her shoulders an instant before her legs gave out, and he braced her to soften the impact of her knees crashing into the ground. “Gods, Merida, let me see,” he whispered frantically, tugging her still-bound hands away from her wound. 

 His heavy sigh of relief let her know that she wasn’t in immediate danger. “Mac…” 

 “Shh,” he soothed. The redhead winced when he pressed a cloth to her throat. “It is not deep, thank Heavens. I have ye, my queen. Yer safe now.” It amazed her how comforting his touch and voice were, even as he applied firm pressure to her wound and her head throbbed in time with her pulse. Not a week before she left Dunbroch, he’d been trying to usurp her crown. In an instant facing Arthur, though, he’d become one of her greatest supporters and allies, and he’d just saved her life. “We thought we’d lost ye. Your mother has been beside herself since you vanished, yer brothers are all out searching as well.” 

 The pressure of his hand on her neck made speaking feel strained, but even as she spoke Macintosh held the cloth in place. “How long was I gone?” 

 The lord gave her a strange look. “Three weeks, milady. Where have ye been? We went to Camelot looking to find ye, but it was…abandoned.” 

 “Not abandoned,” she murmured. “We were all taken to another land by a dark curse.” The shock on his face would have drawn a laugh if’n she weren’t so bone tired. 

 The two remained there, kneeling in the forest, him with a hand to her neck and the other bracing her waist, for a long while. Merida had no clue how long that actually was; at some point, she must’ve dozed off, because Macintosh’s concerned voice and hand on her cheek drew her back to him. “There she is,” he sighed lightly, steady tone belying the lingering worry in his eyes. He pulled the cloth away from her neck carefully. “It looks as though the bleeding’s stopped. I’m going to tie this in place, but I need you to tell me if it feels like it starts to bleed again, aye?” 

 “Aye,” Merida breathed, her eyes not leaving his face as he focused on his task. For such a strong and intense man, Macintosh was surprisingly gentle with her. “Thank ye, Mac.” 

 Blue eyes held green and his hands settled on her shoulders once the cloth was secured. Merida felt her cheeks flush; the weight of his gaze was almost more than she could bear. How was it that he’d worked his way so fully under her skin and into her heart so quickly? Somehow, she knew in her bones that she could trust him. Maybe it was the fact that he’d saved her life on multiple occasions…maybe it was the fact that he’d come looking for her while she was missing, when he could have taken the time to take control of the kingdom. 

Maybe it was the intense look in his eyes as he stared at her, or the way that look softened when she called him ‘Mac’. “If ye keep calling me Mac, my queen” he murmured, the baritone of his voice stirring in her chest, “ye might lead me to believe that yer startin’ to care fer me.” 

 “Perhaps I’ve learned a thing or two since ye last saw me.” The Scotsman raised an eyebrow at her, and she couldn’t control the flutter in her stomach at the ghost of a smirk that tugged at his lips. 

 “Merida!” An elated shout shattered the moment, and Macintosh was hardly able to look up before a blur of red and blue latched itself to his queen. 

 The woman in question gasped, and all Mac heard was the underscore of pain in her voice as she greeted what turned out to be one of her brothers. Without hesitation, he surged to his feet, grabbing the lad’s shoulders and easing him away as he stood. “Careful, Hamish. She’s been through quite an ordeal.” As he spoke, Harris and Hubert finally caught up to their sibling. 

 The three of them stared in shock at their sister, noticing her paler-than-usual complexion and the makeshift bandage around her neck. Merida sent him a grateful smile as the triplets stepped closer to her. “Who dared harm the queen of Dunbroch? I’ll run ‘im through!” 

 The queen gestured to the bodies behind them. “Sorry, Hubert, but Lord Macintosh has already dispatched them. I’ll be fine, boys, I’m just a wee bit tired ‘s all.” Hamish wrapped a comforting arm around her, and immediately started to lead her away from the fallen thugs. 

 “Let’s get you home, then. Mac, however did you find her?!” 

 Merida turned her head gingerly to glance over her brother’s arm as Macintosh fell into step beside the brothers, and mouthed _Mac?_ She was surprised and impressed by the familiarity between her brothers and her clansman; when she’d snuck off to go after Arthur, he hadn’t yet gone near the boys in an attempt to give them space and time after what he and the other clansmen had done. Macintosh smiled affectionately at her with a half shrug. “It was by chance that I stumbled upon them,” he admitted to the brothers. “It seemed as though they planned to ransom her.” 

 “Well ‘twas a blessing that you did,” Hubert commented, clapping Macintosh happily on the back. “Let’s get home, then. Ma will be beside herself to know ye are safe, Mer.” 

 Macintosh watched Merida silently for a moment, noticing every wince and falter in her step. “Do ye boys have the horses?” The triplets affirmed. “Run ahead and fetch them, I’ll stay back with yer sister until you return. She’ll collapse if she keeps goin’ like this fer much longer.” 

 The boys stared at her with wide eyes for a moment, before they all nodded. Macintosh stepped forward and took her elbow, and the triplets took off. “Ye dinna have to send them off, I could have walked meself.” 

 He scoffed in amusement as he led her to a boulder. The lack of fight from her when he gestured for her to sit down told him all he needed to know. “You are the most stubborn lass I know, Merida.” He knelt in front of her, forcing her to meet his gaze. Merida’s breath caught in her chest, and her eyes widened. “Ye donna need to be strong right now, my queen. Yer brothers idolize ye, they are just glad that ye are _alive_.” 

A flush colored her cheeks as she held his stare. “And what of you, Lord Macintosh?” 

 The open affection in his face stole her breath away, and the tenderness in his touch when he brushed a strand of hair from her face threatened to unravel her. “I am looking at the strongest and most beautiful woman in all the realms. Ye could never appear weak to me.” He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. “I canna imagine what you’ve been through, so please, Merida, _let us get you home_.”  The usually opinionated woman could only nod, stunned into silence by his unrestrained emotion. 

 The brothers returned quickly with four horses. “The queen’ll ride with me,” Macintosh stated matter-of-factly. The brothers sent one another knowing looks, which Merida pointedly ignored, and nodded without dispute. Macintosh swung himself up into the saddle effortlessly, and then approached his queen, still sitting on the boulder. He offered her a hand so that she could perch herself on the rock, providing an easier mount for her. Merida settled into the saddle in front of him, and couldn’t help the sense of peace and comfort she felt when his arms eased around her to grip the reins. “Are ye ready, majesty?” His breath danced through her hair and along the back of her ear, making her shiver. Macintosh rested his cheek against her temple, and she felt the easy smile gracing his lips at her reaction. 

 The Scot situated the reins so that he could hold them with one hand, and the other settled carefully around her waist. When Merida instinctively relaxed against his broad chest, his grip tightened slightly, the weight of his hand across her abdomen more comforting and natural than Merida was prepared to admit to herself. She nodded wordlessly, and they were off at a smooth canter. The warmth radiating from his body combined with the rhythm of the horse’s steps eased her headache enough to lull her to sleep. As she drifted into nothingness, Macintosh’s soft, deep voice reassured her, “Rest.  I’ve got ye, _mo cròdha bànrigh_.”


	2. Part 2

The journey back to Dunbroch was long and exhausting. They still had a day and a half ride, and Merida was relieved that they would not be meeting up with any other clansmen before reaching home. It was one thing for her brothers to see her in such a state…and Macintosh had already proven to her that he respected her even at her weakest. The other men, though, did not need to see their queen dead on her feet so soon after she’d taken control of the kingdom. She’d drifted in and out of sleep for what seemed like hours, and each time she roused, Macintosh whispered soft reassurances to her, encouraging her to continue to rest.  Once she woke to see the sun falling below the horizon, she knew they would be settling in for the night somewhere.  Merida took the opportunity to think on the man holding her firmly against his body.

  
Their relationship had been tense at best for years.  They had tolerated each other until her fathers death, and then he’d wanted to take her crown, which tended to put a damper on things.  But once she’d proven herself worthy, once he’d realized that she wasn’t the spoiled brat he’d assumed she was, Macintosh had completely changed. He’d gone from challenging her at every turn, to doing whatever he could to defend her and her crown, and Merida had no idea what to make of it all.  She dinna know what to make of how comfortable she felt in his grasp…how safe she felt.  After the events of the past month, she wasn’t sure she could pinpoint when she’d last felt secure to let her guard down.  Macintosh wrapped her in his embrace and had her feeling as though she were protected by a fortress.  

The queen was drawn from her musings by a gentle squeeze on her shoulder.  "We are going to make camp for the night, majesty.  I am going to dismount, and then I shall help you down, aye?“ Merida nodded, and braced herself against the horse’s neck so that he could swing himself off of the animal.  As soon as he was steady on his feet, Macintosh turned and reached for his queen.  Merida placed both hands on his shoulders, and Mac’s hands circled her waist.

The touch sent a shock through the redheaded queen, and she couldn’t hide a sharp inhale.   _What was this man doing to her, how was he able to effect her so easily? Could she trust these feelings stirring in her chest?_  His eyes darted to hers, and he gently stroked her side with his thumbs.  His gaze was tender, and he nodded as if he was reading her very thoughts.  Merida eased her leg over the saddle, and slid down into Mac’s arms.  His grip controlled her descent and prevented her from falling, but as soon as her feet touched the ground, the queen stumbled from an overwhelming wave of dizziness.  The thundering ache behind her eyes returned with a vengeance, and Merida lifted a hand to her temple.  

Macintosh tightened his hold on her waist, tugging her gently forward until she leaned against his chest.  “Take a moment to breathe, lass,” he murmured.  She was grateful for his hushed tone, as a sharp whinny from their horse cut right through her.  Seeing her pained wince, Mac effortlessly slid an arm around her back and under her knees and swung her into his arms.  Had she not been so worn down, Merida might have half a mind to run him through with one o’ her arrows…but as it was, his warmth and strength was soothing, and she couldna imagine trying to walk on her own.  “Lads,” Macintosh called softly.  The brothers turned to see their strong, brave sister curled in the arms of the lord, and paused.  “Set a tent for Merida, she needs ta rest.  I’ll take first watch, ye three should sleep as well.”

The boys immediately got to work, and Mac settled himself a back against the tree with Merida coming to rest across his lap.  He coaxed her to lay her head against his chest, and began to massage slow circles into her temple.  Merida whimpered softly against the pain at first, but grabbed his wrist the instant he pulled back.  “Please…don’ stop, Mac.  It helps.”  She turned her tired gaze up to him.  He nodded solemnly, and leaned forward to press a kiss to the crown of her head as he resumed massaging her aching head.

“This is worse than jus’ when ye hit that bastard, Merida.  What happened before I found ye?”

She felt herself relax against him, and with each beat of her heart, the agony in her skull eased.  “I was on me way home from Camelot…the Queen gave me a steed in penance for what Arthur had done.  The two thugs’d caught me by surprise…tackled me from me horse.  I was seein’ stars for a good bit, ye can be sure.”

His free hand shifted for a moment into her hair, feeling for any injuries. Once he was sure there were none in her scalp, he drew back the kerchief round her neck to be sure that injury hasn’t started bleeding again.  “Did…did they…” the catch in his voice as he struggled to voice his fear alerted Merida to his meaning. 

Adoration surged through her as she looked up, watching him struggle to maintain a strong facade.  She reached up and stroked his face, allowing herself to lean back slightly in his embrace to meet his gaze head-on.  “No, ye sweet, protective, oaf of a man.  Ye found me before they could bring me any real harm.”  

Merida would forever cherish the look of hope that crossed his face as she spoke. His hand left her clavicle to cup her cheek tenderly, thumb caressing her pale skin and igniting her nerves. “And that, _mo cròdha bànrigh_ , is what I will always fight for so long as I have breath in me body.”

Merida felt the last of her hesitation shatter at his declaration. Her fingers tangled in the fur of his cloak and drew him in. The second their lips touched Macintosh exhaled contentedly through his nose.  Merida tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him firmly and kissing him with everything she had.  The hand bracing her back curled her in, holding her flush against him, and his tongue teased her lips.  

The queen gave an undignified whimper when he massaged the base of her skull.  She felt his smug smile against her mouth, and pulled back.  Macintosh chased her, capturing her lips in one more lingering kiss before allowing her to rest back against his arm.  Her cheeks held a pretty blush, similar to that which would appear when she was infuriated (oftentimes with him).  Macintosh brushed the pad of his thumb across the pink skin, and his eyes held hers captivated.  “Well, I canna say I was expecting that from ye, lass,” he murmured.  

Merida blinked, shock at herself clear in her eyes.  “There are many things I dinna expect from you, Lord Macintosh.  Number one being the fact that you who were once so eager fer me crown, would befriend me brothers and come looking fer me.”  She situated herself comfortably in his lap once more, finally tearing her eyes away from his and resting her head against his chest.  Her fingers traced idle shapes into his bare chest, and Macintosh drew in a shaky breath.

“Majesty, I’m not certain I can handle ye touchin’ me like tha’ if this’s a one time thing,” he whispered, pressing his chin to the top of her head and squeezing his eyes shut to rein in the emotions her touch was stirring within him.

Merida chuckled tiredly, pressing her lips over his heart.  Mac inhaled sharply, drawing back to stare down at her.  “What makes ye think tha’ was a ‘one time thing’?” she questioned.  She tiled her head back to peer at him through her lashes, and he gave her a hesitant smile.  “I already know ye aren’t after me crown…and I know ye couldn’t fake liking me if ye _tried_ …and I also know ye are a _good man_.  I could certainly do worse, Mac.”

The Scotsman beamed at her for a long moment, before pulling her back in for a searing, intense kiss.  Merida responded enthusiastically, shifting herself so that she could wrap both arms around his neck.  Macintosh gripped her hips, lifting her carefully. His queen read his intention easily, sliding her legs around to rest on either side of his, her dress riding up slightly.  The feel of brush digging into her stocking-clad knees jolted Merida back to her senses, and she pressed her forehead against Macintosh’s.  Macintosh dragged slow breaths in through his nose as Merida braced herself with her hands against his chest.

“My brothers will be finished with the tent soon,” she breathed, fighting (and failing) to hide her smile.  Mac cradled her face in both of his hands and kissed her forehead, then her nose, each cheek, and finally her lips.

“Aye.  This can wait until we are back in Dumbroch and ye have had some rest, and ye can be sure this is not tha’ lump on yer head talking.”  She heard the teasing in his voice, but could see the sliver of doubt in his eyes.  Merida grasped both of his hands, tugging them off of her face gently and placing one of them over her heart.  His gaze sharpened as he watched her.

“This is no’ just a bump on me head talking.  Like I said before…I learned a few things in the other realm…namely that we truly never know what tomorrow will bring.  I see no just cause for games anymore, Mac.  This is no’ about me crown, this is no’ about me pride.  I’ve nothing to prove anymore.  I know wha’ I’m saying, an’ I know wha’ I _feel_.  Time or rest inna gonna change that.”

Mac regarded her silently for a moment, a tender smirk on his face.  “Tha’s grand, milady…ye’r still needin’ rest once the lads finish their work.”

“Eh…we…we are finished.  Are we interruptin’ somethin?”


	3. Chapter 3

It felt like ages by the time Merida recognized that they were nearing the borders of her land.  The day had been long once camp had been broken before dawn that morning…particularly because the memory of the previous night was taunting her the entire ride, making it drag even longer.

* * *

_Once her brothers informed them that the tent had been erected, Macintosh had ushered her inside and ordered her to rest.  Merida had been prepared to object to his behavior, until he silenced her with a quick kiss and a reminder that her people would be looking to celebrate upon her return.  That thought alone was enough to make her exhausted.  She heard him speaking softly to her brothers for a moment before some rustling signaled the triplets settling as well.  It wasn’t long after that Merida found herself drifting._

_She woke later to a brush of fabric over her neck. “Everythin’ is alrigh’, Merida.  Ye were shiv’ring like a leaf.  Hamish is taking the second watch, I’ll be with the other two if ye need me,” Macintosh whispered, settling a heavy hand onto her shoulder to prevent her from sitting up. She glanced down to see a blanket covering her.  Despite the sleep that still clouded her mind, she felt an ache in her heart at the sight of him turning away from her, so she reached out and curled her fingers around his wrist.  Macintosh froze._

_“Stay with me?” she whispered, hesitation clear in her voice._

_The Scotsman turned to face her, teasing smugness just barely covering the uncertainty in his eyes. “Tha’s no behavior becoming of a queen, Majesty, inviting a man to lay with ye and no’ courting ‘im proper first.”_

_Merida glared at him, refusing to show him how the prospect of what he said sparked an ember in her belly.  “Ye are no’ wearing but a strip o’ fur, Macintosh.  No sense in catching yer death of cold before ye can take the glory for bringing the Queen home safely.  Lie down, ye bloody fool.  The blanket’s big enough for the both of us.”_ _He obeyed her order silently, settling down behind her.  Merida turned onto her other side, facing him, to ensure that he was sufficiently covered by the blanket, and caught him staring at her.  “Besides, if ye get handsy, I’ll see ye executed before they can celebrate my return,” she promised with a smirk._

_Macintosh raised an eyebrow in challenge, suddenly emboldened by her light teasing.  His hand gripped her waist, tugging her closer so that she could feel the warmth radiating from him.  “Handsy?” he inquired, his voice low and rough._

_Merida felt the breath stutter in her chest, and his fingers tightened in response.  “Aye…I’ll put an arrow through ye…meself,” she breathed.  Fingers trailed up her side, tickling the sensitive skin under her arm, over the cloth around her neck, and came to rest cradling her jaw.  “Handsy, Lord Macintosh.”  She could not resist him when his hand drew her face closer to his so that their noses brushed._

_“Is that an objection, Queen Merida?”  
_

_She leaned slightly into his hand, and smiled tenderly.  “Not at all, milord.”  Macintosh closed the distance between them, stealing her breath and overwhelming her senses.  He lifted his head, shifting them until she was flat on her back and he braced himself half-over her with his free hand.  Merida tangled both of her hands in his hair and swiped her tongue across his lip.  A rumble of a growl vibrated in his chest, and he nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth.  Merida hummed in excitement, which came out significantly louder than she anticipated._

_An uncomfortable cough sounded from somewhere outside the tent, and the two startled.  Macintosh pushed himself to a sitting position, and Merida covered her eyes with her hand as if she could block out the rest of the world._

_Once again the pair found themselves struggling to control their breathing and their swirling emotions.  “Oi, Mac…we’ve_ got _to slow down.  ‘twould be unseemly for the queen to return after vanishing for three weeks and no’ be able to keep her hands off the man who’d once tried to take her crown.”_

_His low chuckle warmed her, and she lifted her hand to see him bracing his hands on his knees, an affectionate grin on his face.  “I believe I was the one to address that concern first, milady.  You dinna seem too worried then.”  He watched her for a moment, before laying himself down beside her.  “_ I _can control meself, Merida.  At least…when there are pryin’ eyes.  Private counsel, though?”  He propped himself up on his side, with his hand bracing his chin.  Mac caressed her clavicle for a moment.  Deft fingers untangled the kerchief around her neck, and the air felt cool against her flushed skin.  He traced a line from the hollow of her throat to the tip of her chin, grinning when she shuddered.  “Alone, I canna guarantee the same restraint.”_

_Merida ducked her chin to kiss the tips of his fingers.  “I suppose tis good that we are not alone then, aye?”  He nodded silently, biting his bottom lip to control his desire.  Merida pressed a quick kiss to his lips before flipping onto her side and settling comfortably against his chest.  Mac’s strong arm wrapped around her waist, and she felt incredibly secure._

_“Sleep well, mo luaidh.”_

_To say the next morning had been a bit uncomfortable would have been a grave understatement.  Hamish glanced between them with skiddish eyes, refusing to address either of them directly.  His brothers exchanged confused looks, and Hubert narrowed his eyes when Merida blushed under his scrutiny._

_“Are ye feeling better, Mer?” Harris asked, eyes fixing on the healing wound on her neck.  Merida unconsciously raised her hand to her throat, and her eyes were drawn to Macintosh when he stepped in front of her  to look for himself.  Her eyes remained trained on his even as he lifted her chin gently, and he eventually released her and stepped back.  
_

_“Aye, I feel fine.  Ready to be home.”  Macintosh nodded wordlessly and turned to help finish the last of the packing.  Hamish refused to look at him as he loaded his pack onto his horse, and the lord clearly struggled not to laugh.  
_

* * *

As the terrain became more familiar, Merida found herself growing more and more excited despite her exhaustion.  She reached down and squeezed Mac’s knee, and smirked when his thighs tightened almost imperceptibly around her hips.  A hand left the reins and tucked her hair behind her ear.  “Wha’ did we discuss about getting _handsy_ , majesty?” he breathed, his warm breath dancing across her ear and sending a shiver down her spine. Macintosh snaked his hand around her, palm pressing against her navel and bracing her back against his chest. She could feel his wicked grin against her skin, before he tilted his head and dragged his teeth at a torturously slow pace down her earlobe.  Merida fought valiantly to maintain her composure, not wanting to make her brothers any more uncomfortable than they already were from the morning, but could not keep herself from dropping her head to the side and exposing her neck to him.  Her eyes closed, and a hand covered his over her abdomen, lacing their fingers together.  Mac trailed silent kisses down her neck, paying special attention to the edge of the cut.  

When he pulled away abruptly, she almost groaned in frustration.  Her eyes snapped open to see Hubert glancing back at them from his horse.  “We are nearly home.  I will ride ahead and fetch ma.”  Merida nodded with an affectionate smile, silently grateful for Mac’s reflexes.  The poor lads dinna need further traumatizin’ on her account.  

When the brothers turned back around, Macintosh pressed a tender kiss to her temple.  “Yer ma will be ecstatic to hear of yer return.  She’ll have a feast prepared by morning.  She’ll no’ let you leave her sight for days, I expect.”

The queen smirked, understanding the unspoken in his observation.  “She has to sleep at some point…will no’ be able to stay awake tha’ long,” she joked.  Once Merida knew that her people were still safe, all she wanted to do was take time to explore this new development with the lord.  She would _make_  time to be alone with him.

The guards were prepared for them by the time they made it to Dunbroch.  Macintosh helped her down off of their horse as everyone seemed to bustle around them, and just like that she was ushered to the castle and away from Macintosh.  She glanced back as two guards led her away, and felt a twinge of sadness at the resigned look in his eyes as he watched her go…as if he believed they would return to the relationship before she was taken to the Land Without Magic.  

“Merida! Oh, thank Heavens ye are safe!  Where have ye _been_?! What _happened_?!” Elinor had her daughter crushed against her chest in a desperate hug before Merida even realized she’d been taken to her mother’s bedchambers.  She hugged her mother back for a moment, before pulling away to look her in the eyes.  Her mother’s eyes snapped to the line of red on her throat, and she gasped in horror.  “Wha’ is _this_??”

“Ma, I’m okay, I promise.  ‘S a long story…but I need some time to…process it all.  I will tell ye everything, jus’ no tonight.”

“But ye aren’t in need of tendin’?”

Merida shook her head with a smile.  “No…it looks worse than it truly is.  Lord Macintosh tended to it straight away.”

“Lord Macintosh…bless the man for finding ye and bringing ye home.”  Merida fought to hide her grin, but her mother noticed and raised an eyebrow at her daughter.  “Oi, I saw tha’ look.  Has he captured yer attention, then?”

Pale skin burned red as Merida ducked her head, silently berating herself for being so transparent.  “N-no…course not, Ma! He…he saved me life, is all!”

Elinor crossed her arms over her chest.  “Ye canna lie to yer mother, dearie.  It’s nothin’ to be ashamed of, Merida.  He was loyal to yer father, and he was beside himself when ye disappeared.  Macintosh took charge of searching for ye, asked for me permission, said that he felt it best that I be able to focus entirely on leading in yer stead in the event someone tried to take advantage of yer absence.  He ordered guards from all of the clans come to protect the castle while he and yer brothers were out with the search parties.”  She cradled her daughter’s face for a moment, smiling tenderly when she noticed tears swimming in the young queen’s eyes.  “He would make a fine partner for ye, my darling girl.”  She kissed Merida’s forehead, and wiped away the matching streaks on her cheeks.  “Give him my gratitude for bringing ye back to me.”  Merida nodded, and sniffled slightly.  “Go on now, take the moment while ye can.  We’ll be having a feast for ye tomorrow.  The clans’ll need their rightful queen at her best if she hopes to keep up with ‘em.”

The redhead did not need to be told twice.


	4. Chapter 4

“Pardon me, lads. Lord Macintosh, a word?”

The Scotsman in question turned from the small circle of clan leaders, tension in every line of his body. Feeling particularly feisty, Merida crossed her arms over her chest and raised a stern eyebrow at him until he nodded and trudged up the shallow hill to meet her. Merida spun on her heel and led the way into the castle, and into the nearest empty room. Macintosh followed her obediently, not speaking until after he shut the door behind them. Seeing the resignation in his eyes, the certainty that she’d already changed her mind, Merida could not hold her facade. 

“Yer Maj-” 

The satisfaction of silencing him with her lips was nearly as gratifying as the grunt from his back hitting the door, and the moment it took him to overcome his surprise and respond. And respond he did…with gusto. Mac gripped her shoulders and spun them around. Merida welcomed the faint pulse of pain when she connected with the solid wood, and leaned her head back against it to gaze up at him through her lashes.

“I’s no polite to torment a man like tha’,” he growled. His eyes were dark as they took her in, and her mother’s words of his behavior when she was gone rang in her mind. The flirty grin fell. 

As she spoke, Merida reached beside her and turned the lock on the door. “I am truly sorry, milord…I canna bear to cause you more distress,” she murmured, her hand reaching up to rest over his heart. Macintosh abruptly grew serious, and one hand fell from her shoulder to cover her hand. “Ye told me that it would be improper to lay with a man before courtin’ him first. I know what ‘tis that I want, and I am no’ intending to wait for permission from the ones who demanded I marry as a young lass just to have me own crown.”

Macintosh’s eyes widened at her words. “Merida…are ye certain?”

She smiled tenderly and lifted herself up on her toes to give him a peck. “While I was in the land without magic, one of the women had to run her True Love through with Excalibur to save everyone else. She sacrificed the man she loved. I’ll no’ drag my feet when I know what I want…who I want beside me.”

Adoration lit his face and he raised a hand to caress her cheek and jaw. “You were not so keen on having me beside ye when I was vying for yer hand.”

Merida snorted. “We were young, Mac…you were an arrogant prick, if’n I remember correctly.” 

“And ye were a stubborn princess.” Mac leaned forward, his nose bumping hers and his breath dancing across her cheek. 

“I suppose it’s just as well, then, that we are ten years older now, and a might wiser, aye?” Mac grinned at her words and closed the distance between them. Merida smiled against his lips, and wrapped her arms around his neck. Strong hands slid to the small of her back and pulled her flush against his body. Merida tangled her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck, arching her chest against his.

He forced his tongue into her mouth, tilting his head to give him a better angle. Merida yanked on the hair in her fingers, drawing a low growl from Mac, who pressed his hips forward until hers were pinned between him and the door. His teeth dug into her lip and tugged, drawing her head away from the door. The pair battled for dominance, give and take becoming more insistent until the queen broke free and allowed her head to fall back. Her chest heaved as she struggled to regain control of her breathing. Mac wasted no time in trailing his lips down her jawline to her throat, and then bit down on the juncture of her shoulder. Merida gasped and her nails dug into Macintosh’s scalp, so the Scotsman drew back to meet her eyes. “Too much for my stubborn lass?”

“Hardly. If ye expect to prove yerself worthy to stand beside the Queen, ye have a bit of work ta do, Lord Macintosh.” His response to the challenge was instantaneous; an almost-feral grin spread across his face, and he squared his shoulders slightly. Merida’s eyes drifted shut and she bit her bottom lip when he returned his attention to her collarbone. Teeth, tongue and lips dragged along her skin, sending her nerves into overdrive and igniting a flame in her belly that had her craving so much more. He hesitated when his touch reached the swell of her breast, and Merida almost whimpered in frustration.

“May I, milady?”

As much as it warmed her heart that he was sincerely asking her permission to continue, the queen felt as if she would spontaneously combust if he didn’t continue. Instead of answering, she began untying the laces at the bosom of her dress. Macintosh gently nudged her hands away, and took over the task himself. His eyes bore into hers as nimble fingers brushed the underside of her breasts through her slip, and Merida leaned up to kiss him fiercely. Once the lace was undone down to her navel, Mac slid his fingers under the neckline of her dress, and pushed it off of her shoulders. The heavy fabric sagged into a heap at her feet, leaving her standing in the thin white fabric of her slip. He took a step back and knelt down before her, his gaze holding hers steadily. He took one hand at a time, kissing the palms and placing them on each of his shoulders, and then curled his fingers loosely around one ankle. Merida stood entranced by him, by the gentleness of his touch, and lifted that foot without even recognizing that she was moving. Mac slid her boot off and placed it beside them before returning her foot to the ground and doing the same with the other. 

Once she was standing before him in not but in her slip and stockings, Macintosh began to massage his way up her calves. The archer felt as though her legs might give out on her, unable to maintain her weight as she melted in his hands. She braced herself on his shoulders, which made him grin triumphantly at her. Once his hands reached her thighs, he became serious once more, waiting again for her permission to continue. Merida nodded once. His touch was featherlight, moving up the inside of her thigh until her breath faltered, then curving around to her sides to find the waistline of her stockings. He drew them down quickly, allowing her to step out of them one foot at a time. 

As Mac rose to his feet once more, Merida felt her slip shift. A quick glance down revealed that he was bringing the front of the gown up as he stood. There was no turning back now…and the queen realized that she had never been more confident in choosing Macintosh than she was in that moment. The cool air was welcome against her flushed skin, but before she could appreciate the change Macintosh gripped her arse and hauled her up. Merida stifled a yelp, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist. When she settled against him, his hands gripping the backs of her thighs firmly, she had to draw in a slow breath between her teeth. The evidence of his arousal was settled perfectly against her center, the fabric of his kilt acting as the only barrier between them. He pressed her back against the door again for a moment, one arm bracing himself and the other shifting to brace her from beneath.

“This would be a bit more comfortable if ye’d led me to a room with a bed in it, milady,” he teased, glancing over his shoulder at the library surrounding them. 

“There’s a chaise in the back…we’ll make do,” Merida panted. Macintosh resumed his earlier path down her neck, using her new angle to his advantage. He nosed the slip away from her breast, blowing gently across it and watching goosebumps rise across her chest. “Mac…” He bit down gently on her nipple before sucking on the peak until Merida’s breath shortened and she pressed her forehead against his hair. He repeated the action with her other breast, and grinned against her skin when she whimpered. Mac pressed a kiss to the center of her chest, then leaned back to look her in the eye. 

“Ye are exquisite, Merida.” Effortlessly balancing her in his arms and maneuvering around shelves, Macintosh found the blessedly large lounge she’d mentioned and laid his queen out on it. She stared up at him through half-lidded eyes, and he found himself caught up in her beauty laid nearly bare before him. He knelt beside her, awestruck, and caressed her cheek. Merida reached up and pulled him down for a languid kiss, taking time to simply taste one another and savor this life-altering moment. 

He attempted to pull her slip down over her shoulders, but was stopped short when the opening was not wide enough. Without breaking the kiss, Macintosh bunched the fabric in both fists, and tore it nearly clean down the middle with a hearty yank. Merida gasped and broke the kiss, glaring down at herself. “Ye’ll be answerin’ for ruining a perfectly good dressin’ gown, ye know. The seamst- oh…”

Macintosh smirked when she fell silent at his touch. His hand settled over her navel, her bare skin warm and soft against the callouses on his fingers. He kneaded her abdomen for a moment before his fingers teased slightly lower. Merida’s hips instinctively rocked up into his hand, pushing it further down until he found the coarse hair there. His hand had disappeared beneath what was left intact of her slip. Macintosh watched her face intently, cataloguing every shift in her face. “Wha’ was that ye were threatenin’, Mer?”

She looked ready to answer him until Macintosh ghosted his fingers over her center, effectively stealing her breath. He teased her heated skin, his own arousal flaring when he discovered how effected she was by him. Unable to resist, he climbed up to kneel on the lounge, tore her slip the rest of the way, and situated her feet over his shoulders. “Mac…”

“Do ye trust me, my Queen?”

She stared at his desire-darkened eyes, and nodded. “Of course.”

He quirked a brief smile at her, and then she found herself arching her back off the chaise as his tongue began to work. Without faltering, he reached up with both hands to massage her breasts, using firm pressure to keep her shoulders anchored to the cushion as needed. Merida squirmed under his relentless assault, her breaths coming in heavy pants. One hand scrambled for purchase on the back of the chaise, and the other reached down to cling to Macintosh. The Scotsman chuckled, the rumble vibrating against her and igniting fireworks behind her eyes. Mac’s hands slid back down her body, massaging as he went, his touch carrying her through the intense waves of her orgasm. She curled in towards him. Once her body finally began to relax, Macintosh squeezed the outsides of her thighs and removed her legs from around his shoulders. 

“Good God, Macintosh…”

Mac shuffled himself forward so that he could look her in the eyes. He recognized the shellshocked look of a woman who hadn’t before been touched so intimately, and it both humbled and thrilled him. No other man had ever (nor would ever) worshipped his beloved as he’d just done…as she deserved to be loved.

“As I said, mo ghràidh, ye are truly exquisite. Ye deserve to be adored and treasured. Ye deserve to be held like the queen that ye are. I will spend the rest of my days ensuring that ye are adequately revered.”

Merida stared at him in silence for a moment, still struggling to regain her breath. The wonder in her eyes drew him in. When Mac’s lips touched hers, it was a far more tender, gentle embrace than either of them had ever experienced. In that moment, Macintosh knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was no turning back…no desire to ever let Merida go. The queen curled her fingers around his bicep, pulling him up and over her body. Without faltering Macintosh was kneeling over her, hands braced on either side of her neck. She threw all of her passion into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her chest up against his. Tongues battled for dominance, and he grinned victoriously when a nip of his teeth drew a whimper from the strong warrior beneath him. He pulled back just enough to break the kiss, both parties dragging in heavy breaths. Merida worried her bottom lip between her own teeth, fingers playing with his curls briefly. He canted his head to the side lazily, watching her face as her hands moved down to the buckle of his belt. She flicked it open quickly, drawing the belt free from his kilt and tossing it carelessly to the floor. She reached for his kilt next, but fumbled when he overwhelmed her with another kiss. 

As soon as she regained her sense, Merida was able to deftly unravel his kilt and plaid, pushing both away from his body. Only when she heard the dull thud of the heavy fabric hitting the floor did Merida break the kiss, and push against his shoulders. Macintosh settled back on his heels, and allowed himself to feel smug when he caught her taking in his now-naked form with unrestrained lust burning in her eyes. She reached up to splay her fingers across his abdomen, her own wicked grin playing at the corners of her lips when she dragged her nails downward. She ran her featherlight touch along his length, and Mac could bear no more. 

With a low growl, he pinned her hands alongside her head and rolled his hips down into hers. Merida moaned at the contact, her eyes clenching and her forehead pressing against the inside of his wrist. He reached between them, positioning himself and waiting for her to look at him once more.

When she finally did, he pressed a kiss to her lips. “I love ye, my queen.”

“And I you, Lord Macintosh. Now stop talking and make love to me, ye bloody fool.” 

Unable to deny her anything, Mac silenced her cry with his lips as he sank into her. The couple took a moment to adjust and to cherish before he started to move once more. Merida rolled up to meet him with each thrust, clinging to him as if for dear life. The queen broke the kiss, dropping her head back against the chaise with a soft whimper. He increased the tempo of their movements, cherishing the flush rising from her chest to her face and the small noises that she couldn’t seem to control. When she noticed him watching her, Merida yanked a hand free and pulled him back down to blow hot air across his ear. Macintosh faltered, nearly undone. He steeled himself and retaliated by grabbing her behind the knee, dragging her hips up to meet his own as he rolled into her at an agonizingly slow pace. 

He was not disappointed by his lover’s response. Merida gasped, arching into his chest and tightening her leg around his hip. Mac pressed his face into her neck and led her other leg around him, allowing him to reach deeper inside of her with each thrust. Merida tightened her legs, struggling to keep up but eventually failing as her entire body clenched around him. As she clung to him through her second climax, Macintosh felt himself tumble over the edge as well. 

Soft pants filled the air as the gradually came back down, Macintosh’s face still resting in the crook of her neck, and her hands toying with his hair. Merida shifted slightly, guiding Mac’s head to rest against her bosom. He couldn’t help his grin, and gave a soft huff of laughter. The woman in his arms shivered slightly, and he watched as her nipple tightened in lingering arousal. Were he not so spent, the sight of her body still reacting to him might have enticed him to take her all over again.

“Dinna even think about it, Mac. I need a mo’ to recover,” Merida murmured, her tired voice holding nothing but affection for him. He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of her breast, before easing himself up over her and glancing around them. A small fireplace was situated just beyond the chaise, so he stood and made quick work of starting a fire. 

When he turned back to face his fiery queen, Macintosh found himself entranced. She’d sat up, not bothering to cover herself as she watched him work. Her appreciation of his own naked form was clear on her face, and Mac was both impressed and comforted by how easily they had adjusted to this new level of intimacy between them. The blush coloring her cheeks was from the exertion of their dance, not embarrassment, and he felt nothing but warmth in his chest at her open stare. He returned to the chaise, holding her eyes steadily as he crouched to pick up his tartan. Mac draped the fabric over the chaise, and then leaned down to lift Merida into his arms. She did not question him, simply wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head against his chest. Mac gracefully settled onto the chaise, situating her across his lap and tucking the tartan around both of them. 

Merida ran her fingers along his chest as they both stared into the fire. “I canna say I was expecting that from ye, my lord,” she teased softly. He grinned, pressing his lips to her hair. “I would have laughed in the face of anyone who suggested that ye’d be the one I wanted by my side…the one that I wanted in me bed. Ye’ve bewitched me, Macintosh. I know tha’ we must court ‘properly’ for the people…but as I said before, I’ll no’ drag my feet, and the people needn’t know everythin’ that goes on behind closed doors.”

Macintosh cradled her head as he kissed her tenderly, his tongue tracing lazily across hers. “Yer ma is an observant woman, Mer. I’m not certain I can hide this from her.”

Merida gave an unladylike snort. “Ma is the one that gave me the push to come find ye. Wanted me to thank ye for bringing me home safely, in fact.”

“Is tha’ so?” She simply gave a soft ‘hmm’ of affirmation, burrowing into his warm embrace. “I’ll always bring ye home safely, mo ghràidh.” The thought of having to restrain himself from touching her in public was tormenting, but the knowledge that his beloved returned his feelings, and her mother approved, made Macintosh feel lighter than he could remember feeling in years. “I’m no’ ready to let you go tonight, my queen. Will you tell me of your time in the Land Without Magic?”

He could feel her smile against his bare chest, and she nodded. The couple remained tucked away in the library, naught but his tartan to cover them both, whispering softly to one another of their time apart. The day would bring sufficient chaos to keep them both occupied - not to mention Macintosh formally announcing his intent to court the Queen at the celebration for her return - but they were determined to cherish this simple, quiet moment together while they could.


End file.
